Whatever Lies Beyond This Morning
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: You don't know who you are or who this man in the rumpled trenchcoat is, but when you look into his cerulean eyes you can't help but feel safe with him. You know him. You just don't know how yet. *amnesiac!Sam, Sam/Cas friendship fluff, no slash, oneshot*


_**Author's Note:**_ _This is an older story that I wrote for the annual hurt!Sam birthday challenge on Livejournal. I really love Sam/Cas bonding so it's always a thrill to fulfill prompts regarding those two. The prompt for this one was, "Sam's had a recent head injury and doesn't remember, among other things, Cas. Dean is forced to go on a hunt for a few days and leave Cas in charge of his damaged brother." Please enjoy!_

* * *

" _No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories."_

― _Haruki Murakami_

* * *

The man in the rumpled trench coat regards you with a curious tilt of his head. His chestnut hair is messy, like he hasn't combed it in days, and his tie is wrinkled. The man seems a bit perplexed by everything in this mysterious motel room (much like you—Sam, your name is Sam—was just a few days earlier) and picks up the tattered phone book in the drawer before tossing it aside.

"Sam?"

A tap on your shoulder jolts you back to this reality that still makes no sense. You woke up yesterday remembering nothing but the fact that you had fallen off a cliff and that your head ached with pain, perhaps from the loss of your memories.

"Sam, this is Cas." The older man—Dean, you remind yourself, your older brother. So he says. You haven't been able to see one piece of legitimate I.D. to prove his story, though you did find a box of fake I.D.s in the glove compartment of that death trap he calls "our car".

Cas waves awkwardly.

"He's going to stay with you while I . . ." Dean bites his lower lip as he struggles for words. He's been doing that a lot since you woke up. Any question you asked was met with silence, followed by a hasty reply and then a _don't worry about it, Sam_ which effectively ended all conversation.

"While Dean attends to business." Cas completes, seemingly proud of himself for his vague reply.

You just nod. Honestly, it doesn't matter to you whether Dean stays or goes. It's probably best he leaves. You need to get yourself to a police station. Someone is sure to have filed a missing persons report on you by now. Or at the very least, you could confirm your identity.

"Right." Dean glances at you and it's times like these, when his gaze pierces yours, you feel something stir within you. Some sort of memory, buried deep, trying to resurface. You know him somehow, deep down, a part of you does and it's crying out, begging your mind to put the pieces together.

But then he looks away and it's gone.

And you feel nothing once more.

Dean grabs a duffel from the bed and leans towards Cas, whispering something. Cas nods his head and then, without so much as a goodbye, Dean is gone and you're left with another stranger that you can't recall.

* * *

"Sam."

It takes three tries of saying your name before you finally look away from the TV and regard Cas. Three times is a record for you. Perhaps you are improving.

"Yeah?" Your voice is hoarse to your ears. You can't recognize it and it's almost like a monster is within you and your body wants to reject it, but it can't. You wish you could remember, but whenever you reach for the memories, your head pounds and you have to stop.

"Are you hungry?" He holds up a piece of bread with peanut butter on it. The peanut butter is spread haphazardly though and it make you want to chuckle. This man—Cas—he doesn't know how to make a PB&J? You get up from the bed and move towards the table. Peanut butter and jelly are everywhere and you reach for a paper towel to start cleaning it up.

"Sam. I'm supposed to take care of you." Those cerulean eyes lock onto yours and it stirs something within you. You know those eyes. They've haunted your dreams and saved you from nightmares. Those eyes have saved you from horrors you can't recall. You want to ask him how you know him, but you're afraid of another lie.

"Cas . . ." No, there's more to his name. Dean calls him Cas, but you call him . . . you've prayed to him, sought his help when you were lost and you called out for him—

Your brain burns and you gasp as the wave of pain courses through you. Cas grips you and leads you to the bed.

"Breathe, Sam." His steady voice coaches you, while he places two fingers to your forehead. It must be a trick of the light for you swear they glow, but it's over in the briefest of seconds and then the pain is blissfully gone. The man in the trench coat grins at you and all feels right in the world.

But you still don't remember him.

* * *

"How do I know you?" You finally blurt out the next morning, after you managed to prevent Cas from burning down the room after he attempted to make scrambled eggs on a hot plate.

Cas looks away and he's lying when he says, "We work together."

"It's more than that," You protest sharply, "You've . . . you've saved me." An eyebrow goes up on his face and you continue, "I was . . ." The fuzzy memory is there, just within reach and you just need to grab it! "I was hurt and you came and healed me."

It sounds crazy, you realize, after you say it, but a soft smile graces Cas' lips and you know that you're right.

"Your memories will return." Cas informs you softly. His phone rings and he reaches for it, moving to step outside to answer it. The door thuds behind him and you fall onto the bed, trying to piece together your shattered memories. You resolve not to give up, to push through the pain and keep trying until you've remembered.

"Castiel." You say a few hours later, after it just pops into your brain. "Your name is Castiel."

"It is." He replies. "Do you remember anything else?"

You're on the verge of remembering, you can feel it. But, for some reason, there's an invisible wall keeping you from your memories and no matter what you do to try and break it, you're stuck.

"No."

For the briefest of seconds, grief flashes in those cerulean eyes before being schooled away, replaced by fake indifference, "You will."

You're missing something here. But what?

* * *

You're burning.

"It's okay, Sam," Castiel soothes, placing an ice pack on your forehead. Your skin is darker than a sunburn and your heart is pounding a mile a minute. Your lungs are barely expanding enough to take in the oxygen you so desperately need, and it occurs to you that you are dying.

Are you dying?

"You will not die," Castiel whispers harshly, sharply, as he takes more ice packs and tries to arrange them so to cool the fever. "I won't allow it."

But you're on fire, can't he see that? You can't remember anything and you will die without knowing anything. Your heart skips a beat and you cough, your vision blurs and this is the end, you're sure it is.

"Father, please," Castiel's voice is a whisper, a soft breeze on a spring day, "He's my friend. He's the one who would not turn his back on me. Please Father, save him."

He's praying, you dimly realizing. Praying like you would . . .

And all the memories come thundering back. You and Dean on the hood of the Impala. Castiel rebelling from Heaven. The fear you felt when he went missing. The pain you felt when you thought he died. The relief when both he and Dean came back from Purgatory. Castiel was your friend, one of your few friends, one who saw you for what you were, one who understand the choices you made, sometimes before Dean even did.

You reach for Castiel's hand and grip it within your own, trying to convey everything in just a short moment.

"I remember." You gasp.

And then you black out.

* * *

When you wake up, Dean is asleep in a chair by your hospital bed. You smile as your brother snores. You remember what happened, how the witch had stolen your memories during a hunt and then pushed you off the cliff. Dean must've hunted her down and broke the spell.

"How are you feeling?" Castiel asks you quietly and you muster a smile.

"Better. My head still aches, but at least I remember."

"I was worried." Castiel confesses quietly. "Dean was as well."

"Sorry, Cas."

The angel says nothing, but takes your hand within his.

"I thought you had died. That I had failed to save you. Sam, I . . ." His voice breaks and you squeeze his hand, trying to reassure him.

"I'm okay, Cas."

You're back and with the people who care for you. You are with your family. You have survived this and you will survive much more and it's thanks to them.

"Welcome back, Sam." Cas finally says and you just laugh.

It's good to be back.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Updates are coming for my in-progress stories as well as a few other stories that I still need to cross post. Thanks for reading! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!_


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